torsdag, mars 19, 2009

Read all about it!

Tonight Sickla is “re-opening”. It probably means that everything is the same except for the fact that we’re open until 10 pm tonight. Oh, and we might have some special offers or something similar.

So anyhow, I’m working from 5 to 10 pm and You should visit me. Just drop by, say hi and buy a book.

Okay?

It’s a date.

tisdag, mars 17, 2009

You’ll have to excuse me.

I just don’t have the energy right now.

fredag, mars 13, 2009

#3

nummer3_1 
I just love this picture.

torsdag, mars 12, 2009

Can’t swallow. Contemplate on this for a moment.

Great.

You could have knocked me out with a feather

and perhaps I shouldn’t think that way but I just can’t seem to make myself think of something else because it’s really just me, how I am and even though I’ve considered going to a shrink it’s nothing that I think a lot about and it would probably cost money that I don’t have and maybe it’s not that bad maybe it’s just normal and nothing that I have to be concerned about because I am after all young and quite volatile as one could express it.

onsdag, mars 11, 2009

Panodil Zapp

Hands Clean is what Spotify chose to throw at me. Clicking through photos of a wedding. Remind myself that I have no connection to the people in the pictures whatsoever, except for the photographer who I only know of through his blog. Feel distant for a second.

Not really knowing what I want to have said, I write.

Marriage. No. Wedding.

I feel that I want to be older, and I want someone I know to marry. A wedding. And I’m invited. They’re perfect for each other, and everyone’s happy. I’m taking pictures. They’re smiling. I’m laughing.

A need to be a part of something important. A significant part of an important event. Need?

Desire?

#2

nummer2nummer2_2

090311

Counting Crows. Holiday In Spain. Wake up. Reach for the phone. She wakes up. Give her the phone. Cuddle another half our, then she has to get up. I’m sick, staying in bed. Walk around, watch her eat breakfast. Happy, talked last night and it’s fine.

She leaves as dad comes home. A car window is broken, he needs help covering it. I eat breakfast, feel better. Pop some pills, drink some water. Shower. It feels good, clean. Perhaps I can go out tomorrow.

2 1/2 men. I should read. American Psycho. Ellis fascinates me. I think about how he portrays the completely insane in such low-profile, everyday situations. Less Than Zero still on my mind. I need to write.

I’m not a movie star. No one will ever know my face.

tisdag, mars 10, 2009

Tuesday

So it turns out I’m sick. Again. Headaches, fever and so on.

I have however spent time on (other than resting) painting. Placed the background layer for my second oil painting. It looks quite simple and childish, but if it turns out as planned, it will be a lot less simplistic when it’s finished.

Pictures will come!

måndag, mars 09, 2009

#1

madeyoulook_2

madeyoulook_1

please, feel free to feel sorry for me

I.

Hate.

Being.

Sick.

söndag, mars 08, 2009

pretty please?

Scary.

It’s really creeping me out.

Just me, really, but still.

I do not, really really do not, enjoy anonymous comments.

It suggests that the person commenting have reasons not to reveal their identity (to the author of the blog?).

If you have to then sure, go ahead.

I just… wish you wouldn’t.

Stupid headache

My mind is not black.

Just heavy.

I try to carry it, my muscles tightening around my spine and neck, but it still hangs. And I end up with a cramp. My muscles cramp, and can’t hold on to my head anymore. It hangs, heavy as it is, with me not able to carry it properly.

And it is tearing.

Perhaps it might snap. My neck can only take so much. And I’m afraid, a little scared that it might not endure. Stupid, meaningless headache. It appeared out of nowhere. Stress? Not enough sleep?

Fear itself, inviting a headache, inviting fear.

I try to lean, resting my head temporarily on the desk in front of me. I should go to sleep. If I’m lucky, it will disappear. Become the nothingness I wish it to be.

Yet I fear it not being nothing.

And so I, in my desperation, tighten my muscles.

torsdag, mars 05, 2009

Sometimes,

I wish:

  • I would spend a lot more time on writing every day.
  • I would exercise more often.
  • That I knew what was worth investing my heart in.
  • I would spend an afternoon organizing all of my pictures, placing them in different files according to date.
  • I would paint more.
  • I would save even more money than I do now.
  • I had more money.
  • That I will find the last drop of courage and insanity to just pack my bags and travel without so much as a map in my back pocket.
  • I could feel more passionate about some things, and less passionate about other things.
  • I would lose my sensibility and just stay up all night, writing.
  • All my friends lived closer to me, so that I could just knock on their door if I wanted to do something.
  • That I won’t have to wish all these things as the years go by.

The show must go on

Writer’s block?

Perhaps.

Drained of inspiration and thoughts?

Never.

måndag, mars 02, 2009

“Heart”, by Stars

The hard rock god he never had a chance you know,
incurable romantics never do.
He held a flame I wasn’t born to carry,
I’ll leave the dying young stuff up to you.

You get back on the latest flight to paradise-
I found out from a note taped to the door.
I think I saw your airplane in the sky tonight,
through my window lying on the kitchen floor.

All right, I can say what you want me too.
All right, I can do all the things you do.
All right, I’ll make it all up for you.

I’m still in love with you.
I’m still in love with you.

söndag, mars 01, 2009

thoughts…

Life has turned out quite strange for me. Not as I thought it would just two years ago.

A complete turn of direction.

Scary.